I
Over the broken world, the dark gone by,
Horror of outcast darkness torn with wars;
And timeless agony
Of the white fire, heaped high by blinded Stars,
Unfaltering, unaghast;—
Out of the midmost Fire
At last,—at last,—
Cry! …
O darkness' one desire,—
O darkness, have you heard?—
Black Chaos, blindly striving towards the Word?
—The Cry!
Behold thy conqueror, Death!
Behold, behold from whom
It flutters forth, that triumph of First-Breath,
Victorious one that can but breathe and cling,—
This pulsing flower,—this weaker than a wing,
Halcyon thing!—
Cradled above unfathomable doom.